


Wishing (If I Had a Photograph of You)

by HYPERFocused



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alien Flora & Fauna, M/M, Mere, Wishes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 19:32:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5598136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HYPERFocused/pseuds/HYPERFocused
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney expects that certain foods would disagree with him, but he never imagined one might do so of its own accord. </p><p>Or, be careful what you wish for, not to mention, who.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wishing (If I Had a Photograph of You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darkmoore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkmoore/gifts).



> Happy belated holidays/ Happy New Year to Darkmoore. I hope you enjoy. I wish I could have been done earlier.

At 35, Dr Rodney. McKay, PhD, PhD, never imagined that by the time he hit 40, he'd be living in another galaxy about to take part in a threesome with his insanely hot, brilliant flyboy boyfriend, and what was essentially his 22 year old self. Either participant would have seemed equally unlikely, nearing on impossible. When he'd joined the Stargate Program, and been briefed on just how little most people knew about their own planet, or any others, he thought he knew all of the things that might possibly happen to them, outcomes mundane and bizarre, friendly or deadly. Turns out, reading the mission reports, and experiencing things first hand, are entirely different sorts of knowledge, and not at all interchangeable. Testing well is nothing like being tested in the field. In some ways, the more Rodney experiences, the less he actually knows.

This was quite disconcerting to him, because he'd always assumed much of his academic knowledge would be just that, academic. Theoretical in the sense that it would be decades before his work was dumbed down enough to reach the masses of idiots out there who wouldn't recognize his brilliance. He never expected his decisions and research to have immediate, real world applications. He certainly didn't think it would have life or death immediacy for nearly everyone he loved, in a galaxy once unknown, that was now home.  
.

 

The day had started out quite ordinary. Or, as ordinary one could get while being hunted by life-sucking zombie-goths straight out of a Tobe Hooper film. OK, the Wraith weren't zombies, but, damn it, the analogy still worked..

“There's something you should see in the bio lab”, John said over their comm link.”It's pretty weird.”

“Define weird, Colonel.” Rodney was busy, damn it, and if John’s words weren't a summons for a quick make-out session, or better yet, a blow job, heads were going to roll. Not that anybody would be getting any head.

Just as he had feared, Colonel Sheppard was nowhere to be seen. Maybe his suggestion had been for real. “What the hell is that thing supposed to be?" Rodney groused, opening the glass door of the xenobiology lab's cooler, to inspect something wriggling and gelatinous looking, that caught his eye. At first glance, Rodney ventured it was the Pegasus version of a jellyfish, but on second look, (and the third incredulous one Rodney had to give it because it had _changed_.) It looked exactly like a bowl of of lime Jello, complete with spoon. Potentially deadly, or at best dangerous, either way.

 

"It's...well, we're not sure." Dr Redshirt told him, a bit nervously. OK, that wasn't her real name. Rodney knew what it was. Really. It was Red-something. Redford, Redding, Reddy. "There's been some debate on whether it's possibly, um, _sentient?"_ She was new to the expedition. Bright (of course), but a little bit cowed by his intellect, or maybe it was his attitude. He could admit that. He was growing as a person.(Even Teyla had said that, after he sucked it up --literally--, and 'praised' her latest attempt at Cream of Tuttle Root Soup. She _had_ improved the recipe. At least now it tasted like _clean_ socks.)

"I always worried that my dinner might disagree with me, or worse, cause me grave harm, but I wasn't expecting it to _do it of its own accord._ "

 

"It isn't actually food, Dr McKay." Rodney could see the eye-roll wanting to come out. Hmm, maybe she wasn't as cowed as all that.

 

"Yes, I'd got that, Dr Rush." That was it, Rush/Russian/Red. Rodney, having no one whose favor he needed to curry, had no qualms about sarcastic rejoinders. 

"From what we've observed, it mimics what it sees, and changes shape to blend in."

 

"Like a chameleon on steroids?"

"More than that. It seems to have some telepathic ability. It takes the form of something with meaning to you. Oddly enough, it usually manifests as something edible. And from what we can tell, it has definite opinions on whether it likes you or not."

 

"How in the world can you tell ?"

 

"Well, it showed you lime Jello. When Colonel Sheppard was here, it was a turkey sandwich. Luckily, he didn't try to eat it." 

 

"It figures. Of course the alien jellyfish chameleon likes Colonel Kirk. Given that evidence, I'd bet it's female."

 

It seemed like a particularly clever, yet realistically ineffective method of spreading one's DNA. Rodney was reminded of the nanites, and the way they usurped the space and purpose of everything they touched.

 

Of course John had done that too. It was nothing new. The Gate travel to another galaxy? Sure, that was new. But edge of your seat bravery, decision making on the fly? John had been doing this pretty much since the curious, if clueless, snarky pilot plopped down on a comfortable chair, and the universe revolved around him. That was all it took. Rodney's would revolve around him, too.

* * *

"So, Colonel, r'you hungry?" Rodney asked, over lunch a few hours later. He was shoveling the last few bites of "Cherry" pie into his mouth, and grinning. Or maybe it was smirking. Either way it was a smug look that John wanted to erase, either by returning it with a smirk of his own, which he could do right where they were, in a cafeteria full of nosy people, or by kissing Rodney right out of it.

John just raised an eyebrow --a single one, a trick Rodney had never mastered-- and said, "No, Rodney. I've just got this tray full of food for the pretty view."

 

Rodney didn't stop where he was going with the query. "Because I have a good idea where you can score a delicious looking Turkey sandwich. And I do mean looking, because I'm pretty sure it was staring right back at you when you saw it.”

“Oh, you mean the Athosian Wishfruit! Didn’t Teyla tell you about that?”

“Not that i recall. But then, i do tend to tune her out when she talks about cooking.”

“She’s trying, at least cut her some slack.”

“I am. So, what’s the deal with the Witchfruit? Is it supposed to cast some sort of spell on whoever touches it, or eats it?” Rodney wouldn’t be surprised, Pegasus was one weird fucking galaxy.

“ _Wish_ fruit. As in, “I wish i had a turkey sandwich”. Apparently it produces whatever is on your mind at the time, for good or ill. I guess i was hungry.”

“I guess the question is, is it limited to food? And how long does it last?” As long as it stopped with the deadly citrus, Rodney was all for a little experimentation.

“From what i understand, it's harmless, and the effects are temporary. Teyla implied you could pretty much do what you wanted with it. Why, did you have something in mind?” John waggled his eyebrows at Rodney, reminding him of a demented Marx Brother. Rodney had half a mind to wish for Duck Soup.

“Not exactly, I just thought, well, here's an opportunity to try something new, a little extra-personal time, if you get my drift.”

“You can drift my way anytime, Rodney. Any time at all. What did you want to wish for?” 

“Oh, no, Colonel Kirk. I'm not letting that thing near me before its’ wishing capabilities are engaged. It tried to kill me! We’ll use your wish. Just don't wish for anything dangerous to me. Please. Life is stressful enough here.”

“Rodney, I would never wish for something that could harm you. Why in the world would I want that? You know how I feel about you.” Maybe John didn't say it enough, but Rodney had to know John loved him, right? John wouldn't be here in Atlantis if it hadn't been for Rodney. His enthusiasm for the project had been contagious, and John wasn't even looking for a cure. 

“Yeah, all right. Go do your wishing thing. I'll be in my quarters if you decide to include me in whatever weird shit you get up to.”

“Rodney!” John was starting to get a little irked. “I have no intention of doing this without you.” Truer words had never been spoken. John had a wish. He wished for more of Rodney.

“Well, still. I'm going to steer clear until you tell me it's safe.” 

Putting the odd looking fruit down on the bed next to him, John thought about what, no, who, he wanted. He was astonished when it worked so well. It was just your garden variety "Athosian Wishing Fruit" that caused the split, and the other McKay to appear. There was the real Rodney. Soft, fine brown hair, a bit of extra forehead. Laugh lines around his beautiful blue eyes, a stomach with a hint of comfortable softness. This was _John's_ Rodney. Then there was the other one, the one from the photograph. “Holy shit, it worked!” John quickly buzzed for Rodney, the real Rodney to come down.

For sanity’s sake, Rodney’s or John’s, he wasn't sure, John was calling him Mer. The same blue eyes and pale skin, unmarred by the tiniest scar, wrinkle or blemish. Wild, golden curls, a lithe form that hadn't yet broadened into the reassuring strength and solidity that Rodney had now. He was breathtaking. But as hot as the young Meredith was, and he was pretty much scorching, John had to admit, he wasn't the man John now loved.

He wasn't sure what Rodney would think about all this. Would he be creeped out? Jealous? Turned on? This was so far out of John’s usual unusual circumstances that he was at a loss. It seemed Rodney was, too. Now two pairs of beautiful, bright blue eyes were staring at him. One pair puzzled and intrigued, the older looking wounded and betrayed. This was not what John had had in mind when he wished to meet the Rodney from those pictures.

* * *

This was what John had wished for? This child? This twink? Rodney didn't remember ever looking quite so fey and willowy. He'd mostly felt awkward and gangly. Looking at his younger self was strange, almost surreal. What did you call it when you slept with your other self? Self cest? Semicest? It wasn't exactly masturbation, right? And was it just more signs of his supposedly extreme ego that Rodney thought the other him was hot as hell, and it was a pity that he hadn't gotten laid the way he clearly had deserved when he was that age. Of course back then, he'd pined after the unattainable popular girls, until the one gave him mono. He steered clear after that, with the excuse of being too busy winning science prizes to date seriously.

In retrospect, his excuses were bullshit. If barely legal John Sheppard had been around, and shown the slightest amount of interest, Rodney would have been all over him. Assuming he'd had the nerve to approach John in the first place. Hell, Mer would have wanted Rodney’s Sheppard, too. Grey hairs and eye crinkles, bony knees and all.

"Jesus Christ, Rodney, you were beautiful!" 

The way John was looking at other him made Rodney more than a little bit envious. "Do you two want to get a room, or something?"

"No, I mean you still are. You're always going to be gorgeous to me, even if you end up looking like a troll with three hairs and a Jabba the Hut body. But seriously, how the hell did you make it through grad school without breaking hearts and destroying panties everywhere?"

“Must have been my sparkling personality.” Rodney guessed that was it, and the fact that his intelligence put people off, or maybe his inability to be self-effacing about it.

“Sparkling isn't quite the word I'd use”, John mused. “‘Sparking’, maybe.”

“Well, thank you for that, Colonel.” Rodney glared, miffed.

“That wasn't meant as an insult. Anything but. Things that sparkle attract attention, sure, but usually that's all they have to offer, that little bit of flash. Things that spark? They effect real change. They cause a reaction. They matter, Rodney. You matter.”

“Then why did you wish for my younger, better self? I know I haven't exactly been taking you up on offers to go running, but Ronon seems to enjoy it. Maybe a little too much, if you ask me. But I feel like I burn enough calories saving everyone's ass on a regular basis.”

“That's not it at all. I was wishing I could have known you when you were young. When we were young. I'd seen some intriguing pictures, but they only whet my appetite.” John reached out to hold him, willing Rodney to understand.

“And you like that me better than this one.” Rodney pointed to his own chest. “I can't really blame you.”

“No! Sure, I like the other you. He's breathtaking. He's also clearly out of my league. But the truth of it is, I'm not interested in that version of you. That isn't the Rodney McKay I know. I love you. The real you, the one with the imperfections that come from leading a full life, on taking chances. I love the you that took a chance on me!”

Rodney couldn't argue with that. “Well, I am a genius, after all.” He pulled John down on top of him, onto the too small bed. WishFruit Mer reverted back to its original form, somewhat similar to a kiwi fruit. Neither John nor Rodney was sure which of them had squished it, and frankly, neither much cared.


End file.
